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After a couple of days of enthusiastic practice by James on his new drum set, the police just arrived.
Seems that unspecified neighbors have been calling in complaints... a city mediator is supposed to call us on Monday. And the officer said that in order to practice, James would need a "live music performance permit" from City Hall. I don't know what that costs, or the terms... I wonder if this is broadly enforced, otherwise every band student, every 15-year old with a flute or clarinet or French horn would likewise need a city license in order to practice at home...
patgreene, whose shame buttons are easily pushed and who is intimidated by authority figures, has fallen to pieces and is locked in her room sobbing. James is slumped over his drums quietly crying, blaming himself for his mother's reaction. Sigh... what a mess, just before I go out of town for 4 days.
[update -- James ate lunch and is holed up in his room. Pat finally emerged, glared over lunch, then left the house and drove away. I don't know where she went.]
Seems that unspecified neighbors have been calling in complaints... a city mediator is supposed to call us on Monday. And the officer said that in order to practice, James would need a "live music performance permit" from City Hall. I don't know what that costs, or the terms... I wonder if this is broadly enforced, otherwise every band student, every 15-year old with a flute or clarinet or French horn would likewise need a city license in order to practice at home...
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[update -- James ate lunch and is holed up in his room. Pat finally emerged, glared over lunch, then left the house and drove away. I don't know where she went.]